The untold tale of KITT
by itsfinnmcmissile
Summary: Before the Knight Industries 2000 was Michael's car, he was a fairly ordinary human. This is the story of how Samuel Rider became KITT. KR original series.
1. We Don't Know KITT

Michael knew KITT better than even Bonnie did. Not KITT's code or security systems, perhaps, but he knew the car's mind better than he knew his own. Right now, Michael Knight could see that his car was feeling very unhappy, and that worried him.

"What's wrong, buddy?" he asked, frowning in concern.

"Michael, I..." KITT paused to consider his words, "I can't tell you. It's classified, not that you'd believe me if I told you."

"Is the Foundation hiding something I should know about you?" Michael said, frowning slightly.

The car's scanner light swished faster. "I'm not permitted to say."

Michael made a frustrated noise, then knelt next to his partner, resting one hand on the car's hood. "KITT, there's obviously something bothering you. I've been working with other people in crime fighting for years, and I know that being troubled by something can really mess up one's ability to function effectively in dangerous situations. And we both need you to be thinking clearly." He paused, then sighed, "And who am I kidding? I'm worried about you too."

KITT's scanner light paused uncertainly for a moment.

"So, as your driver, I'm ordering you to spit out whatever's on your mind. And I'll deal with Devon and FLAG if they get mad at you. Okay?"

"Yes, Michael." KITT made a sigh-like noise, "Michael, I'm actually a human."

Michael gaped. "You are?"

"Yes," the car told him.

Sagging against KITT as if his weight was suddenly too much to carry, Michael continued to gape. "So where'd they put your body?"

"They removed my brain from it. My body no longer exists," KITT was trying to stay detached and calm, but what he was saying obviously hurt.

"But that's science fiction stuff," Michael said, feeling ill.

"Says the man who drives a talking car."

"Touche. So... How did you become a car?"

"Well," KITT said, "It all began when I was nearly murdered..."

* * *

><p><em>Notes:<em>

_Yes, it's a peculiar idea. But not that peculiar, especially for the Knight Rider section. In fact, there's probably a whole lot of stories based on this concept that I just haven't seen yet._

_The next chapter will have some KITT-bullying, so you might want to read it if you like it when fanfiction authors make KITT miserable. If you don't like that sort of thing, well, I guess you shouldn't read it.  
><em>

_Have a great day and don't worry about your favorite Trans Am; he'll be fine. I can't bear to give his stories sad endings._


	2. KITT Happens

_This chapter isn't written as KITT told the story to Michael. I added more detail and some extra explanation about this alternate universe so it might make a bit more sense._

* * *

><p>Samuel Rider was a perfectly ordinary 23-year-old man. He was a talented driver, fairly inept at talking to girls, and quite a good police officer. He tended to be a realist, and often became rather annoyed when people called him a pessimist. He was a fan of action movies with car chases. He enjoyed classical music. But today, the one thing on his mind was how to stop a harmless seeming, but rather dangerous, smuggler he had been ordered to arrest.<p>

Sam entered the huge storage building quietly, holding his gun in one hand and his powerful police flashlight in the other. He heard the soft sound of footsteps and turned the flashlight on, bathing a large section of the storage building in bright light. He swept it around the area slowly, heart pounding hard.

"Show yourself, and keep your hands on top of your head," Sam called in his most authoritative voice. Thankfully, it didn't tremble at all. That would have ruined the effect.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!" called a slightly frightened woman's voice in reply.

Sam saw the woman moving into the open on a catwalk above him. He breathed a very soft sigh of relief as she moved slowly toward a ladder, definitely unarmed. Suddenly she lunged forward and shoved a pile of boxes. The pile tilted and fell toward Sam. He ran, but had hardly moved two paces before the boxes hit him.

Half a second of pain and pure, primitive terror. Then he lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>Wilton stared at his old friend in shock. "You're telling me that not only did KARR become unstable, but its future pilot got himself permanently crippled?"<p>

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. Samuel Rider was crushed under a load of boxes yesterday, and will never be able to walk or use his right arm again. It's a miracle that he's alive at all," Devon Miles said.

"That was stupid of him," Wilton scowled.

"I doubt he had much choice in the matter," said Devon softly.

Wilton frowned and drummed his fingers on his leg thoughtfully, then sat up straighter with a smile. "Of course! Sam can be KARR's replacement. I'll start watching a few of my other potential human operatives to see who can be his pilot. We'll make this work, Devon!"

"Are you sure about this? I don't really want to deal with another rogue car."

"Of course I'm sure. KARR had a lot of potential, but he was selfish. KITT, whose brain will be that of a cop crippled while trying to make his city safer, will be harmless," Wilton Knight smiled smugly.

"Is Kit another acronym?" Devon asked, deciding against debating his old friend's latest plan.

"K.I.T.T. Knight Industries Two Thousand. Also standing for, Knight Is Totally Terrific," smirked Wilton.

Devon wished he hadn't decided to stay with the Foundation and right his friend's many wrongs. He was really starting to dislike Mr. Knight. "Very witty," he said as he backed away slowly.

As Devon left, Wilton smiled to himself. KARR hadn't been properly mentally conditioned for its job, but that mistake wouldn't be made a second time. This time, the car was going to understand who its boss was and would put others' well being before its own. Knight would just have to figure out how to do it, and he loved a good challenge.

* * *

><p><em>You are the Knight Industries Two Thousand. You are a car. You work for the Foundation. Who are you?<em>

Sam tried to fight. He didn't want to be a car, he didn't want to work for this Foundation, and he didn't especially like the name Knight Industries Two Thousand. But he'd been fighting for what felt like days, and somehow they had removed the use of every one of his five senses from him. Being by himself with this Voice was terrifying.

_You are the Knight Industries Two Thousand. You are a car. You work for the Foundation. Who are you?_

Sam wished he could tell whether he was crying or not. He hoped he wasn't, but he was certainly terrified and lonely enough, and there was no way to tell.

_You are the Knight Industries Two Thousand. You are a car. You work for the Foundation. Who are you?_

Even the pain of his injuries would be welcome at this point.

_You are the Knight Industries Two Thousand. You are a car. You work for the Foundation. Who are you?_

This had been a sort of psychological torture worse than any he could imagine, but now it was just plain fact. Maybe he _was_~

_You are the Knight Industries Two~_

Sam interrupted the Voice. _I am the Knight Industries Two Thousand. I am a car. I work for the Foundation._

His senses returned at once.

"Very good. I am Wilton Knight, your creator. How do you feel?"

The Knight Industries Two Thousand inspected itself. It saw that it was, indeed, a car. It had been sure that it was still human, but now? It couldn't possibly delude itself that way. It had wheels, headlights, seats. Horror and disgust filled its mind as it realized that it had let this happen. If it had continued to resist, it wouldn't have had to become this. Why hadn't it fought harder?

But it knew the answer.

They would have outlasted it, no matter how long it had held onto itself. Giving in was self defense, and no matter how humiliating it was, it was better than another moment with the Voice. Being someone's car was the most terrible, shameful thing it could imagine, but at least the Voice was gone.

"I feel fine, sir," it lied.

* * *

><p>KITT, as Wilton Knight called it, stared out of the garage miserably. It hated being a car, and all its attempts to request being moved back into its human body had been met with sad laughter and head shaking. It couldn't move as it was set on an automobile lift, and it was very lonely.<p>

"How are you functioning today?" asked a stressed looking mechanic as he trotted into the garage and began turning on computers so he could run some system checks.

The car make a frustrated snorting noise. "Physically, I'm in perfect condition. But, at the risk of sounding like a stereotypical teenage girl, I hate my body and my life is ruined!"

The mechanic glared at a monitor which showed that its attached computer was booting slowly. "Well I'm very sorry to hear that."

"You should be," KITT snapped.

"You're going to need to learn to cope with this, you know. You aren't going to ever be human again, no matter how many stars you wish upon," the mechanic told him, drumming his fingers on the computer.

"And how in the name of my dear mother who I'll probably never see again will I do that?" asked the car, spinning its tires helplessly.

"The same way I coped with being brought here from France as an orphaned teenager. By trying to forget your past and pretending that you aren't completely lost. Be a computer."

And after that, KITT lied to everyone. It said it was a computer. Everyone else played along.

And Wilton felt pleased.

* * *

><p>KITT quickly mastered the art of using its synthesized voice. According to the computer scientist it asked, a computer 'read' the brain signals he normally used to control his throat and mouth to create audible words. It took a lot more effort to master the art of driving. Even though it still used the pedals and wheel of the car, controlling the machine was horrifically challenging. However once it had become competent, it was capable of preforming stunts it had never dared to attempt as a human.<p>

The Knight Industries Two Thousand spent most of its time in training after that. When it attempted to rebel, it was subjected to the Voice until the unwanted behavior stopped. When it behaved itself and acted appropriately in simulated crime fighting missions, it was rewarded with praise and a car wash. The Two Thousand liked being clean; if it had to be a car, it wanted to be a nice looking one.

It soon found that it greatly enjoyed driving fast. KITT knew that it should never speed unless it was speeding to protect other people or _maybe_ itself, but that didn't make going fast any less fun. Quite the contrary, in fact. After a few months of training, KITT was moved into a beautiful new car. It was very pleased with its new appearance, and spent the rest of the week wandering around Foundation headquarters and showing off for anyone who was willing to watch. People who were supposed to be tinkering with its systems hurried along behind, trying to get it to hold still for yet more system testing. KITT was happy when it wasn't punished for showing off, but it realized that not wandering off might be a good idea; Wilton would always glare disapprovingly when KITT rebelled.

KITT feared Wilton.

And a darker, more human part of him _hated_ the man.

But KITT's conditioning and Sam's ethics kept the car from ever punishing its creator, and almost made it feel sad when Wilton became deathly ill. There was no way KITT could despise its dying father, even if that father had never treated him very well.

By the time its pilot arrived at the Foundation, it was the perfect car. And it didn't mind its new name any more.

* * *

><p><em>Notes:<em>

_Yes, KITT is a 'he'. Not an 'it'. But I thought 'it' sounded better in this context._

_And yes, I really dislike Wilton Knight. I don't think it was right for him to adopt Michael and give him Garthe's face without asking permission._


	3. Pack Up Your Troubles

The two sat in silence for a few minutes after KITT finished telling his tale. Neither one was quite sure what to say.

Finally Michael spoke."That poisonous son of a-"

"He was old and desperate. He wanted to be remembered. Don't judge him so harshly."

"You're _defending_ him?"

"Well someone has to do it. Wilton may have used us, but he's dead now. And he did have reasons for everything he did," KITT said firmly.

The Knight raised an eyebrow. "But were they good reasons? Ethical ones? Ones that didn't directly contradict the values he wanted us to uphold?"

The Trans Am didn't reply.

* * *

><p>A few days later, KITT and Michael were driving home after a surprisingly tiring mission involving a serial shoplifter and a nuclear bomb.<p>

"What's it like to be a car?" the Knight asked suddenly.

"Different," was KITT's prompt reply, "in pretty much every way possible. My hearing is much better. I can see much more clearly than I could when I was human, but only in monochromatic-"

"What's monochromatic?" Michael interrupted.

"Greyscale. Or black-and-white, if you prefer. Now may I continue?"

"Oh," Michael replied, feeling a bit silly for not figuring out what his partner had meant. "Go ahead."

"Thank you. As I was saying, it's all very different. Notably the fact that I can't run my fingers through my hair when I get nervous. Maybe that's a good thing, but it's still peculiar."

"I can imagine it would be weird. So how'd you become such a good chess player?" asked the Knight, "Not that you're as good as me, of course."

"My mother taught me to play when I was three years old and got me into a chess club when I was five. I never stopped playing after that."

"Ah. I always thought you seemed like a geeky sort of person," Michael teased.

"I got to be the brains _and_ brawn of this partnership," KITT agreed with a long-suffering sigh.

"Hey! I'm not stupid or weak!" Michael punched one of KITT's windows; gently though, so his hand wouldn't be injured.

KITT made a skeptical and insulted noise.

"Really, I'm not. You're just Superman."

"You just saved yourself from being left at a truck stop in southern Oregon, Michael. I don't like being punched," KITT's voice was full of wounded pride.

"So can I go on that date with Clara tonight?" Michael asked, then turned pale, "Ohmygod, I nearly forgot her!"

The car sniffed haughtily. "This will be your 296th date in the last 365 days. I think I'd better not let you go." Michael would never guess that KITT had added a forty onto the number, KITT thought smugly.

"Please, KITT!" begged Michael.

"Oh, all right. But I'd appreciate it if you would keep the kissing to a minimum. It's rather... Embarrassing to watch, especially when you're doing it in me and every one of my scanners is picking up every detail," the Two Thousand said grumpily.

"Fair enough," Michael agreed with a sigh. KITT could be such a killjoy, but he supposed he'd probably feel the same way if he was the car.

"Do I have to pretend to be an ordinary car?" KITT asked.

Devon and FLAG and their secrecy could jump in a lake. The Knight was tired of keeping KITT closeted, so to speak. "Feel free to introduce yourself. Just don't try to freak out Clara or I'll start putting embarrassing bumper stickers on you."

"Yes, Michael," the car said, trying to decide whether his partner's reply made him happy or not. After a bit of consideration, he decided that it did.

KITT was still a human who had been forced to become a car. Michael was still a man who had been given a new identity without his consent. But they were a team, and they understood each other better than anyone could ever guess.

Together, they were Team Knight-Rider.

* * *

><p><em>Notes:<em>

_I think I was grinning like an internet troll when I wrote that last sentence._

_This is probably the end of the story. If you want to take the idea further and write your own KITT-used-to-be-human story, go ahead. I think I'm done playing with this idea, although I think it has the potential to continue._

_This last chapter kind of lost its enthusiasm. Mostly it was just meant to give the story a happy-ish ending, and I think it succeeded. It was originally going to include KITT seeing his family again._

_Goodbye for now, KITT fans!_


End file.
